Almost, On New Year's Eve
by Xleste
Summary: One-shot depiction of unexpected moment together on New Year's Eve between Beckett and Castle. Takes place between Ep. 3x11 and 3x12.


_Author's Note:_ Takes place between Episodes 3x11 and 3x12.

_Respectful Disclaimer: _I don't own Castle, alas!

* * *

New York was ready for New Year's Eve, throngs of people already packing Times Square. The partying started long, long before midnight, the sound of revelry resounding in the bars and clubs of the Big Apple.

At an hour to midnight, Richard Castle's party at the Old Haunt was going full swing. Gina's publishing contacts and authors she was courting were mingling with Castle's writing buddies, poker buddies, and other assorted cronies and fans. Alexis was spending New Year's Eve, for once, with Meredith in Los Angeles. He'd already called her twice that day, partly because he deeply missed her and partly to reassure himself that she was still in the country. Martha was holding court singing showtunes by the piano, belting out an apropos number from Sunset Boulevard. "It's New Year's Eve…and hopes are high, dance one year in, kiss one good-bye…"

Castle was in lighthearted conversation with Judge Markway about a case ruling Markway made two decades ago when Castle interrupted abruptly. "I just had an idea."

"For your book?" Markway looked lightly annoyed at the interruption to his anecdote.

"No, actually for this case Beckett and I are working. You mentioned that the key piece of evidence had nothing to do with either the crime scene or the victim, but the …" His voice drifted off again, and he held up a finger. "I'll be right back. Excuse me."

He tried Beckett's cell, which went straight to voicemail. Frowning at the inexcusable inability to get ahold of her whenever he wanted, he calculated rapidly how long it might take him to get to the precinct to look at a piece of evidence and sneak back in time for midnight.

Warm arms slide around his waist, and Gina whispered in his ear, "Richard… I was wondering where you were hiding." She smiled at him, gorgeous in a skintight cocktail dress, and mildly piqued that it seemed lost on him at the moment.

He plastered a smile on his face. "Hi honey. Listen, I want to go check on something. I'll be right back." Knowing her eyes were on him, he instead headed downstairs towards the office, feeling a childish rush of glee at having a real excuse to use the secret passage to leave his bar.

* * *

The bull pen of the 12th precinct, in contrast, was much quieter. The lights were dimmed, monitors shut off, no loud music playing. He stepped off the elevator and stopped short, taking the full few seconds to feel the rush of appreciation and surprise at seeing Beckett there.

It was a Kate Beckett he didn't see often. Her hair was curled and down around her face, in the way that sometimes made his mouth dry. Instead of slacks and a turtleneck, her long, long legs were showcased in four-inch gold heels, and the gold beaded mini-dress emphasized their length. Over the whole ensemble, she'd casually thrown a black suit jacket, one he recognized as a spare from her precinct locker.

She looked lost in thought, the yellow light from the murder board lamp highlighting her face. He took the extra moment to take in the fine silhouetted profile of her face before she registered his presence the way she sometimes did, turning her head to look at him with eyes already widening in surprise.

"I thought you were at a party with Josh," Castle said, approaching her and trying not to let his eyes drift down to the swell of her breasts. He'd practiced that one a lot when they'd gone to a strip club as part of a case, but it never got easier.

"Josh had an emergency surgery. Why aren't you at your own party?" she parried.

"I had an idea." Boyish enthusiasm lit up his face, and she couldn't help the tiny smile that played on her lips. As whacked as his theories sometimes were (the alien abduction one still made her laugh out loud in remembrance when no one was around), the fun he brought to the table was something she'd absolutely deny cherishing.

"I was talking to Markway, and he mentioned this case he worked on a couple decades ago, involving a foster family." As he rattled on, her eyes narrowed in thought, more possibilities flowering from the plausible ones he was actually raising.

"You don't think we looked far enough back for motive," she said at last, still thoughtful.

He nodded with puppyish earnestness. "I wanted to look at the case files, the testimony from the guy that lived down the street from the vic."

She met his gaze a moment longer before nodding. They opened the files, spreading the records out on her desk. Hunched over her desk with their chairs pulled up together, it was easy to lose track of time. He angled his body unconsciously to hers, only momentarily distracted when hit with the soft smell of _her_ when she reached across from him to snare a transcript that was sliding off the opposite end of her desk.

Their shared triumph, particularly with _her_, at finding something pertinent was like nothing else in his life. "Look here. There was an Mariana Lewis three doors down, and her daughter was the same age as the vic….and disappeared."

She looked at him, their faces too, too close for comfort, and then looked away. She cleared her throat, forcing a brisk tone. "I'll get Ryan and Esposito to canvass the neighborhood in the morning, see if they can find someone who remembered an Anna Lewis living there, and pull any files from missing persons. Good call, Castle. Thanks."

She glanced at her watch, her father's watched that Castle repaired for her, and shook her head. "I think you have somewhere you need to be." He glanced down at her watch too and groaned. Five minutes to midnight. There was no way in hell he was getting back to the Old Haunt in time...and if he were truly honest with himself (which he wasn't yet), no where else he really wanted to be (or more accurately, to be _with_).

He rose abruptly, a snap decision made, and turned on the bullpen TV. The countdown was running on the news channel, depicting the glowing lights and scrolling billboards in Times Square.

Madly dashing to the breakroom, he made two cups of coffee on the handy dandy uber-coffee machine he'd gifted to the precinct, and brought them out to her. She just quirked a brow at him, looking bemused. "Countdown with me?" he asked, offering her a cup of coffee.

She rolled her eyes at him, but accepted the coffee, straightening to stand by him as they turned to watch the TV. "10 – 9 – 8 – 7 – 6…" They watched the ball drop and he turned to her. For one crazy second as the fireworks went off and the bells on TV clanged, she thought he'd actually kiss her. He saw the widening of her eyes as he leaned in, and planted one softly on her cheek, barely brushing the corner of her mouth. "Happy New Year…Kate."

She held her breath, her eyes shutting for a second before she opened them and ducked her head to take a sip of coffee. (This moment was going to keep her up for hours anyway.) "Happy New Year."

He clinked his cup to hers, drank another sip, and set the cup down. "Come on, I'll have my car service take you home on my way back to the Old Haunt." She nodded in acquiescence and leaned over to pick up her purse by her desk, and couldn't resist a tiny smirk when she heard his audible swallow at the rise of the hem of her dress.

She rose and started to head to the elevator, turning back to glance over her shoulder to where he still stood gobsmacked. "Coming, Castle?"


End file.
